M prologue
Text The weathered figured stood silently on the jagged cliffs beneath the broken scarlet sky, gazing quietly out over the world that had once been glorious, beautiful Equestria… and was now nothing more than a wasteland, a shattered hulk of stone and rot and death covered in lost souls and Hell's reeking corruption. He sighed quietly, reaching a hand up to rub silently over his falcon-like head: bristly, short feathers covered his face, tan and dark, and a single eye gazed silently outwards at this reminder of what too much pride could cause… of what responsibilities came with power. He grimaced a bit as he rubbed along his beak, then rubbed absently at the aching scar that ran like lightning down half of his face, the eye on this side blind and unseeing… and yet he thought ironically that all the same, he had been far blinder when that eye had worked, long ago. Tall and lanky, he cut a strange figure amidst a landscape that was nothing but ugly rock, wounded sky, steaming ice and molten slag: despite the terrain, he stood easily on two legs, deerskin gloves covering his hands, clothes made from tanned hide and a fur-lined jacket, with thick, heavy boots protecting his feet that were maimed with the marks of long travel. He seemed to be the only living thing for miles, breathing a little roughly in the high altitude of the broken, tattered peaks, silently surveying the kingdom that had once been his… one of ninety-nine replicas of what he'd thought of as the 'calm world,' the world where he could just sit back and watch with tranquility as peaceful ponies cantered back and forth, helping relax his mind after a long day of war and strife and pretending he was wise. He chuckled to himself, reaching beneath his jacket and pulling out a flask, carefully spinning the cap open as he murmured: "And the only reason the other gods didn't dare call me a little girl was because I could bludgeon them all with one hand behind my back, and Thor was also always fond of the 'prancing ponies,' as he called them. Odin, you great idiot… if the other gods could see what bravery, what stoicism, what warriors even such peaceful prancing ponies can become given the right incentives, they would have stared in slack-jawed amazement and never doubted your so-called wisdom again." He shook his head slowly, then sipped from the flask, grimacing at the bitter taste of the drink before glancing upwards curiously as the sky ripped open in the distance, and a radiant rainbow shot from a blue tear in the heavens, crashing into the ground with a rumbling shockwave… and Odin smiled despite himself, murmuring: "Arrogant as always, Brynhild, never keeping to schedule, doing what you think is best even with something as sacred and powerful as the Bifrost. I suppose I knew what I was in for from the very first moment I asked for your help, though… and we're not Aesir anymore, we're not gods or even blessed. We're just fools of the changing times." Odin chuckled quietly, then he shook his head slowly and turned around, beginning to make his way back down the jagged mountain cliffs as the arched rainbow bridge to the skies glowed vibrantly in the distance, seeming to burn and pulse with radiant fire as the once-god muttered: "I just wish you'd stop using the Bifrost to visit all the places you're not supposed to." Top ↑ Category:Transcript Category:Story